


Swapped

by Bitchii_usa



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Role Reversal, Role Swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchii_usa/pseuds/Bitchii_usa
Summary: An AU where the roles of Vegeta and Bulma are reversed. Bulma is a lean, mean, bad ass kicking machine, and Vegeta has to put up with her. After all, who else is supposed to help the only other Earthling protect Vegeta? Previously a one shot turned into a story.





	1. Bots a Broken (with Art)

_A/N: So I said I was going to give myself a break from writing drabbles, but then Tumblr users Rutbisbe and Saiyanb decided to inspire my chaotic mind with their artwork (you guys should totally check out these talented people!)_

 

_So here goes a little one shot about our favorite couple in a role swapping. Kind of tempted to turn this into a story, kind of need to finish other projects first._

 

_I have a problem.._

 

_oooOooo_

 

 

She was absolutely absurd.

This was the second time in the past two hours she had demanded he cease whatever leisurely activity he was engaged in and fix the bots in the gravity chamber.

Bots that she destroyed, mind you.

He wanted to tell her to fuck off; tell her that since she was the one that found herself stranded on Vegetesai that the least she could do was learn the tools of the trade. He wanted to tell her that he no longer cared if she blasted herself right back into space and took that obnoxious scowl with her.

He wanted to tell her that, but of course that was impossible. Because the second she batted those powder blue lashes at him and hurled off her string of inaudible insults, he would find himself on his knees, sopping in sweat, and fixing those damned bots.

He wondered if every Earth woman had been as impossible as she.

Walking across the red sands of his compound, he wiped his slick forehead as the second sun beamed down angrily on him. She really was a hassle, making him constantly sweat under the unforgiving suns, and all because she couldn't be more careful while training.

She was standing at the entrance of the chamber, her crossed arms and tightly pressed lips an indication of her impatience. He rolled his eyes at the death glare she was throwing at him. Hadn't she learned that the powers that brought other men to their knees just simply did not work with him?

"Bulma," he said with irritation as he swiveled a wrench in his hand, "do you think that you could maybe go one day without breaking anything? I'm really sick of coming out here because you're fighting too hard."

"Oh, is that so?" she straightened her posture then, looking him squarely in the eyes with a hard edge, only a sprinkle of humor swimming beneath them. "So you're upset for doing your job?"

"My job? My job doesn't involve me running around here and aiding every dilemma you have. My actual job is getting neglected because you won't consider my own needs!"

"Needs, huh?" She walked over to him slowly, with the predatory sharpness of a lioness, her knee high white boots moving tightly with the curves of her legs. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the unspoken threat that radiated off of her skin. "Yes, let's talk about needs, little Saiyan man. Let's talk about how in a few years, this entire sulfuric planet will cease to exist because the Saiyan race is no longer strong enough to handle this new threat approaching. Let's talk about how the prince of this pathetically weak race will be responsible for every tail butchered here because he was too prissy to do his job correctly. And maybe we can also discuss how much you and your inferior race will need me to save you, although I'm still playing around with the idea of why. "

"We don't need you," he spat back, his fists shaking under the weight of her scalding words, "Chi Chi has been here for her entire life, and she's always helped us out when we needed her the most."

"She's pathetic," Bulma's eyes danced with wildfire, and Vegeta found himself stepping back to avoid the burn, "and you're a fool to say that to me. She is nowhere near as intelligent, strong or beautiful, let's be honest here, and I will prove that when this threat is erased."

Vegeta scoffed as he moved past her, now impatient to get from underneath her cold stare. "Whatever you say, Bulma. Just show me which one needs to be fixed so I can go back to what I need to be doing."

"They all need to be fixed."

"All of them!?" His eyes widened as irritation swam through his chest. He had made a total of 17 bots for her, taking him a total of two weeks to suit them to her standards. And she needed all of them fixed this afternoon!?

She was insane.

"Is that a problem?" she said darkly, her tone expressing that his answer had better be no. He inhaled deeply and shook his head.

"I can do it, but you had better keep these in shape or I won't touch this room for a month."

"You will perform whatever duties are expected of you if I need them. If I don't get strong, then everything you have ever known will be wiped from existence. Is that your wish? "

He let those words sink over him. She had a point, at the very least. The Saiyans just weren't warriors like they used to be, the fault of about four generations prior, and with the exception of he and a handful of others, there were no real fighters on the planet.

But the Earthling women were different. They had come from a technologically advanced planet, one with science and martial arts at the center of its core, and Vegeta had been surprised at their unsurpassable strength. He remembered the day he met Chi Chi wandering outside of the limits of his palace, and how peculiar he thought she had been. He had run away from his duties as the prince as a teenager, seeking the freedom of simpler life, and had practically crushed the girl with his own body weight. She was tail-less and it bothered him, but her carefree attitude and passion in fighting won him over. She had single handedly helped rid Vegetesai of any threats and he called her his friend.

But this one, the one named Bulma, was the exact opposite of Chi Chi.

She was undeniably strong; her exotic coloring and striking features only adding on to her strength that one could taste merely in passing. She had found herself on Vegetesai after searching for Chi Chi, labeling her a traitor for sharing the secrets of Earth and not aiding her home planet when the terror that was Launch had all but destroyed the blue planet. Bulma declared that she would avenge her people for Chi Chi's error, even though the girl had no memory of a thing called Earth or Bulma for the matter. Bulma heard none of it, and after losing to Chi Chi in battle several times, had made her the number one priority on things to kill.

And somehow, Vegeta had found himself in the middle of her chaos, helping the prior enemy get stronger.

"Well? " she stomped her foot against the tile, "Get on with it! I don't have all day!"

He snarled, curling his top lip over his teeth. "As you wish, your highness."

"Hmmph." She decided to let that slip of sarcasm slide, turning instead to enter the chambers. Vegeta followed reluctantly, mumbling a string of curses under his breath. If Bulma wasn't such a...

"I expect you to be quick about it, but thorough," Bulma began to strip out of her spandex pants, temporarily forgoing her white boots. She followed suit with her equally tight, royal blue top, leaving only a tight sports bra and short boxers in their wake. "I will be training here while you work. I also expect that you won't disturb me and you will keep it down."

"Sure I'll get right on that," Vegeta said dryly, rummaging through his tool box and ignoring her presence.

"Impudent Saiyan man," she bit roughly, zipping up her boots.

They worked then, forgetting about the other, he on here bots and she kicking and punching at hyper speeds.

He was almost finished, so achingly close to being done, when he noticed the wiring was completely fried on one of the bots. He cursed, massaging his temples and running his teeth over his tongue, before turning around to her.

"Hey, what the hell did you do to... fry... the.. " his words became caught in the ladder of his throat as he drank her in.

She stared at him in annoyance, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, the tops of her heavy breasts covered in sweat. Her skin was sleek, as if she had doused herself in rose oil, the pinks of her cheeks dancing with her panted breaths. Wet tendrils of her oceanic hair stuck to her face like skin, her electric blue eyes boring into him. Her sports bra was drenched, making her nipples pebble against the tight fabric, enticing him.

Seeing her like this, scowling and all, had produced a flame inside of him that coursed through his belly and traveled down to his erection.

He remembered being a teenager, daydreaming that he could collect the legendary dragon ball stones and wish for exotic fruits and a beautiful girl to call his own.

He imagined that the infamous Shen Long would produce a strong hearted woman with striking features, one that could make his knees buckle with the mere wind of an eye. He saw her in his head; he had even named her Andromeda.

And now looking at this ethereal creature before him, he couldn't help but wonder if Shen Long had finally granted his wish.

She raised an eyebrow as she caught his staring; her ego inflating as the corners of her mouth curled upwards. She arched her back so that her breasts bounced upwards, running a finger down the curve of her stomach. "What?" she said teasingly, "Like what you see, weakling?"

He frowned, unable to pull his eyes away from her, his member stiffening with slight pain at the artistry of her.

Chi Chi's husband, Kakarot, was infatuated with her. He couldn't help his mind from glossing over the question if it had anything to do with her bedroom persona. If Bulma was any indication, Earthling women were a forced to be reckoned with.

At least, that's what his cock said.

He shook away the thoughts, gathering up his toolbox. He needed to get out of here, the air suddenly becoming too stuffy, before he fucked her ragged under the gravitational pull of the chamber.

That would be no good.

"I'll finish the rest after dinner, " he said upon leaving, his back turned to her lest she see the conflict in his pants, " just try to be gentle with them, okay? "

"Oh, Vegeta," she purred, slithering to him like a snake. He felt her on the back of him then, her warm skin sending electric jolts through his clothing. She breathed against his ear, short hot breaths making the tuft of hair on his neck stand at attention. "I'm never gentle."

He caught his breath and high tailed it out of there, hearing the dark chuckle from her lips fading into the distance.

Damn the harpy woman and her siren nature. Damn her ego and her bad attitude and for turning him on with the allure of it all.

He rushed back to his home, a goal playing like a movie in his mind of how he could manage to live with the Earthling woman.

But first, he was going to need a cold shower.

 

oooOooo 

 

Art by the lovely Rutbisbe.  Find her on Tumblr! 


	2. Grab Life by The...

_**Swapped: Chapter 2** _

_**Grab Life By the…** _

oooOooo

"You're a fucking fool, Vegeta."

Raditz took a swig of his Kinto-Un beer and bit into his sandwich, globs of red sauce spilling down his chin. He wiped it with the back of his hand as he looked out the window at the blue haired woman in the back yard. She was stretching into some god awful position, carefully bent over in the middle so that her ass was on full display for the three Saiyan men who sat at the kitchen table. Raditz sucked in a breath of stale air and shook his head. "A goddamned fool."

"Not everyone is like you, Raditz," Vegeta bit back, biting into his own saucy sandwich, "I don't feel the pressing need to penetrate everything with a set of legs."

"Yeah, but," he leaned back in his chair and whistled, cradling his arms behind his head, "I've never seen a set of legs like _that_."

"And you're just going to pretend like she _isn't_ an Earthling, right?"

"Fuck, man, I _didn't_ forget," he turned to lock eyes with Vegeta, "but imagine for a second that all of that aggression and anger was put to _better_ use. I just don't see how you can tolerate seeing that every day and still manage to walk right."

"For once I agree with the brute," Nappa scratched his bald scalp, unable to tear his eyes away from the glory in the yard, "she's mean as shit, but I wouldn't even mind if she offered to take a seat on my coc—"

"Alright!" Vegeta swallowed his beer, narrowing his eyes at his fellow Saiyans. He was fighting the urge to trace their gaze and feast upon the site of well sculpted glutes. He had to remember that this was _Bulma_ , for crying out loud, and she was _not_ a woman he should be admiring. Not with her foul mouth and bad attitude and oversized ego. Not when she boasted of his irrelevancy daily, taunting him of their difference in strength. And especially not when he had already bought tickets for the show, but was too chicken to actually show up to watch it.

If she would even let him.

"We're just saying, man, you're the prince, right?" Raditz finally tore his eyes away from his desires and looked at Vegeta.

"As if that hardly matters anymore," Vegeta grimaced and swirled his beer bottle in his hand, "what am I reigning over? A bunch of has- been warriors that would rather watch the sunset than fight for it?"

"Either way, you've still got a title, and that means something around here. And a prince deserves nothing but the finer things," he looked back outside, the corners of his mouth tilting, "and _she_ is the finest of things. I'd love to have a go with that."

"Fine," Vegeta challenged, "you go out there and tell her then."

He repositioned his chair, letting the legs hit the ground as his sturdy frame sat upwards. His face narrowed to a serious expression and he shook his head. "I never said I have a death wish."

Vegeta chuckled and finished off his beer, letting the foam coat his mouth before swallowing. It made him uncomfortable, Raditz and Nappa ogling her like that, especially when he battled those urges daily. How could he not notice her? All of her clothing was pretty much a second layer of skin, showing off her muscular physique, the perfect contrast of soft and hard, her skin always flushed with sweat. For the most part she isolated herself away from him and the rest of the members of his family, but when she did make her presence known, she was dressed like _that_.

"What are you men up to?" Vegeta's father marched into the kitchen, going over his itinerary, and running his fingers through his long beard.

"Oh, _nothing¸_ King Vegeta," Nappa answered slyly, "just…checking out the lovely view of the day, is all."

King Vegeta put his papers down as he raised an eyebrow and walked to where the men were sitting. "I don't like the sound of that."

Vegeta began to study the wood of the elongated table as his father came up behind him, concentrating his eyes on where they were watching. He nodded approvingly. "Nice, very nice."

"You can't be serious, dad," Vegeta moaned, getting up to remove himself from the vulgar men, "She's our _guest_ , or have you forgotten?"

"A King never forgets son," he replied, watching in awe as Bulma completed her pushups, supporting her weight on her sole index finger. "I just want to make sure our girl is in tip top shape to help defend our planet when Launch and her army arrives." He turned to look at his doppelgänger and smiled. "I'm sure we can't depend on Chi-Chi for every little problem, can we?"

"Hasn't stopped you before," Vegeta mumbled under his breath, turning to grab another Kinto-Un from the fridge. He sighed as he took the cap off forcefully, leaning back against the fridge. He knew that Bulma was strong, a clear indication of her butt clenching battle with Chi-Chi, but the irate Earthling had _lost_. Here she was, marching around his mansion like she was some sort of goddess, proclaiming Chi-Chi to be nothing more than a lowly hick from Earth, and she couldn't even beat his friend in battle. He might have been biased, after all. He had pretty much grown up with Chi-Chi, watching her grow from a giggling, bubbly girl to a strong woman with an innocent but no-nonsense sense of humor, all while he watched over her, providing her with the royal protection that only a Saiyan prince could give. And a brother. He believed in her when everyone had doubted her victory, he didn't even bother calling on the fleet of army ready at his disposal whenever a problem arose. Chi-Chi was enough, had always _been_ enough, and he didn't understand why some blue haired foreigner thought that she was going to change that.

"Oh shit," Nappa sucked in a breath air and scraped his chair against the tile as he scooted away from the table, "she's caught on to us."

Vegeta swallowed his beer and walked over to the table, meeting the very angry gaze of ice. The threat poured out of her milky flesh, spilling onto the red sands and through the thick glass of the kitchen window, making Raditz shiver. Bulma turned to face them fully, her chin dipping to her chest as she clenched her fists at her sides.

"Maybe we should get out of here,"' Nappa encouraged, rising to his feet, "I don't like that look she's got on her face."

"Where'd she go?" Raditz rubbed his eyes as he watched the spot she was just in, a golden glow of sun illuminating her feet prints. The room grew suddenly warm as she was upon them then, her bangs dancing at the wind her incredible speed produced. Her cherry lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she roamed her eyes over the four men. She drew her lip back over her teeth and scowled, fire practically leaping from her eyes.

"Did you all enjoy the show?" she said darkly, her words coming out chipped.

"It wasn't what it looked like, Bulma," Vegeta intervened, stepping slowly to her, "we were just talking."

"Don't play me for a fool, male!" She seethed, feeling her anger beginning to spill over, "You think that my rigorous exercise is some sort of pornography to entice your cocks!?"

"God, no! Look, will you just calm down? You're acting like a mad woman," Vegeta pressed his temples, feeling a headache approaching. "Have some self-control!"

"Self-control!?" Her voice rose several octaves as she raised her hands in annoyance, a flicker of ki emerging from her fingertips, "How about we go outside right now and see who's better at self-control."

"Calm down, dear," King Vegeta gave her a tone waxed in honey as he lifted his hands in the air, "the prince is right, we were just having a conversation among men—"

"Silence!" she cut him off, her eyes sharply locking with the King's. She turned back to Vegeta, clenching her fists tighter. "Outside, _prince_ , you and me, right now."

"Bulma-"

"Bulma!" A sweet voice paraded through the kitchen, cutting the tension as if it were mere butter on a platter. Queen Yasai of Vegetesai strolled into the kitchen, the red train of her form fitting dress sashaying behind her. She smiled warmly at Bulma as she approached her, taking the Earthling's hands into her own. "Oh, dear, it's been days since I've seen you! Have you been eating well?"

Bulma bit back her shock at the regal woman. The Queen was always so sugary with her, and frankly she didn't know how to respond to her nature.

"I'll take that as a no, dear. What a shame! Say, listen, I was about to start on dinner and I think you should help! That way you can learn how to cook for your husband one day!"

"I'm a warrior!" Bulma shouted, although unable to free her palms from the Queen's, "I do not _marry_! Nor do I play some simpleton housewife!"

"Sure, sure, dear! Let's let the men play their parts while we play ours! I'm sure your training can wait for a bit." She grabbed the babbling Earthling tighter, forcing her to follow her into the deeper part of the kitchen. The Queen turned around subtly to wave to her husband and son, winking at them in the process. When the women were gone, the men let out a collective sigh.

King Vegeta wiped his brow and placed a hand on Vegeta's shoulder. "Son," he said, looking at the doorway in which the women exited, "when you decide to marry, find yourself a wife like your mother. She has saved my butt many of times, and today marks another." He pat Vegeta's shoulder before turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving three Saiyan men to count their blessings over half empty bottles of Kinto-Un.

oooOooo

Vegeta felt bad.

He wasn't sure _why_ , after all it wasn't like _he_ was the one ogling, but Bulma seemed pretty upset that her privacy had been violated. He found it funny that she was so bothered, considering she was the same woman who had enticed him in the gravity chamber just last week. He didn't get the game she played, sometimes.

Either way, he couldn't help but think of what Chi-Chi would say. _"You've got no right disrespectin' a lady like that, Vegeta! If she wanted you to see her goods and services, she'd ask you to come to her bedroom."_ Yep, she would say something like that.

"But it was Nappa and Raditz, not me!" He mentally argued with the phantom voice.

" _Doesn't matter! You coulda told them to mind their manners! Or shut the blinds!"_

Vegeta sighed, grabbing the tray of candied fig bars his mother made and headed outside. "Sorry, Cheech," he said to no one, "I'll go make it right."

" _Good boy! That's the Vegeta I know!"_

Yeah, sure.

The second sun was beginning to set now, the sky turning into sparkling amber. The almost-nightly wind soaked his hair, making him wish he'd put on a proper shirt. Lost in his thoughts and morals, he had only adorned his body with his work pants, letting the cool air ripple against his naked chest.

He made his way to the gravity chamber, knowing she would be working off the full meal that she helped prepare. Dinner was _good_ , he admitted, even if she had demanded that she eat her meal in the solitude of the chamber. She must've wanted desert, considering that he had caught her many nights stuffing her face with sweet bars when she thought no one else was around. Maybe she would accept his apology if he filled her up.

He ignored the lewd thoughts that followed that statement.

Knocking on the door was getting him nowhere. He could hear the quiet hums of the gravity simulator running, and figured she must be training extensively. He sighed, contemplating leaving the bars there for her to eat whenever she emerged, but fought against it, in case some lone creature of the night had a sweet tooth.

He turned to leave when he spotted blue from the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the tree above the chamber and spotted her. She was lounging on a branch, her head placed on her hands as they rested against the bark, her legs propped up on the sturdy stick as they crossed. Her eyes were shut tightly, her fluffy lashes kissing her cheeks, and Vegeta couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Looking like this, she appeared to be so…average. Unthreatening. Her lips were slightly parted like she wanted to speak to him, and he figured in that moment that perhaps the two could have a pleasant conversation.

"Why are you lurking around, you pathetic excuse for a prince?"

Never mind.

He lifted the tray when she opened her eyes so that she could properly see the fig bars. "I come with a peace offering." He chewed over his words, careful not to entice her. "I want to apologize. For earlier."

She pursed her lips and looked in the distance, away from him and his mouthwatering treats. "Save it, I don't require an apology from someone as asinine as yourself."

Vegeta huffed, blinking his eyes in frustration. Could she be anymore stubborn? "Whether or not you require it, I'm still giving you an apology. The others shouldn't have been watching you like that."

"The others?" She said bitterly, the wind moving wisps of aqua hair around her face, "So you're going to deny yourself the proper blame?"

" _I_ wasn't watching you, Bulma. I was simply drinking my beer."

"Liar." She turned to face him then, her deadly blue eyes bearing down on him. "Given the chance, you _would_ watch me. Don't play so coy as if I've never noticed you before, like a lust filled idiot."

He swallowed as cherries danced across his face. How did he rebuttal that remark? Sometimes, he did watch her longer than he would've liked to, but not for the reasons she _thought_. She scoffed and shook her head. "Just as I thought. You're inferior in so many ways, but the least I could expect from you would be the truth."

"I _am_ telling you the truth!" He responded harshly before sighing. Fighting with her was pointless. "Look, I don't really care if you believe me or not. I brought you these damn bars to make up for earlier, and that's all. You can eat them, you can punch them, you can obliterate them into dust for all I care." He sat them down on the ground, wiping his hands clean. "Not my problem anymore."

"And just where do you think you're going?"

He turned to face his home, calling out to her over his shoulder. "I'm going to go work on a design to give you some _actual_ clothes and armor. Maybe then you won't get stared at like a piece of meat, you know, if you stop putting yourself on display all the damn time!"

He felt the force on his back before he could register the words he said, feeling his stomach empty as he was turned harshly on the ground, his face toward the sky. The sand bit into the muscles in his back as Bulma pressed her weight on him, her knee lodged under his chin.

"You will _never_ tell me what I can and cannot wear, do you understand that? My clothes and armor are an intricate part of my heritage, and you will not curse them with the soils of your tongue. Don't blame me because your hick of an Earthling friend adorns herself in the _blasphemy_ that is Sayan armor."

Bulma's eyes became dangerous slits as she huffed out breaths of air, her face wickedly close to his own. Her threat was low, dangerous, and he felt the sharpness prickle his skin.

He should have been afraid; he felt the familiarity of fear coil through his belly.

But all he could think of was how her body was pressed against his. The smooth, creamy skin of her leg that warmed his chest. The underside of her breasts, that he could see _perfectly_ at this angle, playing peek a boo under her pink cut off top, the letters that spelled her name being unfairly stretched across her protruding chest. Her stomach was slowly moving with her breasts, the flat pane cutting into impressive abs. He wanted to run his fingers down them, skim under the elastic of her pink shorts. He stared into her eyes, blue as the planet she came from, and read her malicious intent. It unraveled him. He was flying directly into danger itself, in the form of blue hair and pale skin, and at that moment he agreed with Raditz.

He was a fool.

She jerked her body, with just enough pressure on his lower regions. He mentally scolded his shaft for not listening to him, feeling the blood flow directly to the area under her buttocks. A small bead of sweat formed around his temple as he caught his breath, praying to _god_ that he could go limp and not pay attention to the warm body that was practically _sitting in his lap._

She felt the poke and looked down knowingly.

Bulma looked back up at him, a devious smirk playing upon her lips. She parted her rose colored pillows, a glimmer of her white teeth gleaming in the last sparkle of twilight. She leaned closer to him, as if that were possible, running her tongue over her teeth. She glided her finger down his chest, her nail lightly scraping his olive skin, playing with the dips and curves of his muscles. He felt his breath hitch as her finger cascaded even further downwards, his back arching slightly as she ran it over the fabric that concealed his bulge.

She breathed a bit harder, the bursts of breaths gift wrapping his lips, and pushed her hand in the slit of his pants, grabbing him. He moaned at the pressure, chiding himself on the tone that was too pleading at her firm grasp, and she chuckled darkly.

"If you ever, _ever_ ," she pressed her face down closer, her lips lightly touching his own, "look at me _or_ allow someone to look at me like that again, I will kill you. Got that, Prince Vegeta?" She allowed the syllables of his name to roll of her tongue, making him stiffen tighter under her weight.

And under her hand.

He nodded, to the best of his ability at the moment. She squeezed his cock again, making him groan in torture, and lifted off him swiftly, grabbing the tray of fig bars. He didn't look up, couldn't look up, and only released his breath when he heard the doors to the gravity chamber slam shut.

He lay there in agony, willing himself to go limp as he watched the oncoming yellow moon float above him. Shit, _shit,_ her hand felt so incredibly good, even if it was just a method of torture for her. He tried to reason with the unrelenting throbbing in his pants, wondering what did he ever do that was _so bad_ that he had to be this cursed. He ran his hands through his fire mane, regretting the decision to ever let her train on his compound.

A year. An entire year before Launch was scheduled to arrive, and he had to not only survive her intimidating anger, but he also had _this_ to deal with.

Great. Just fucking great.

oooOooo

_A/N: Soooo, this was supposed to just be a one shot, right?_

_Well thanks to you guys and your reviews, and some incredible people on Tumblr, I've decided to make this into a real fic. For those of you wondering, "but when are you going to update Concerto?" I'm hoping to have that done by Tuesday or Wednesday._

_I'm glad you guys like my rendition of Bulma! I really like writing her. Chi-Chi and the others will be fun too, and I can't wait to play around with their personas!_

_The lovely, lovely Rutbisbe, who is ½ responsible for inspiring this piece, (the other gratitude is extended to Tumblr user Saiyanb!) used her incredible art skills to create some pieces from the first chapter. I will link it for and it will appear on AO3 on the chapter itself._

_Thank you guys so, so , SO much for the wonderful feedback, it really makes me happy in words I can't describe. Thank you everyone, and I do ask that you R &R please!_


	3. And Kicking and Screaming and Hoping

_**Swapped Three** _

_**And Kicking and Screaming and Hoping** _

oooOooo

Vegeta _needed_ to get away from the compound.

After his and Bulma's…incident…he hadn't been able to even look her way without remembering what her body felt like on top of his. Warm and soft, yet hard and domineering, it was all beginning to mess with his head. And as much as Vegeta loved to work his brain to figure out equations and mathematics, he did not appreciate his mind being fucked with.

 _Especially_ when that someone was a blue haired Earthling woman hell bent on destruction.

So he fastened his helmet and tossed on his leather jacket, the royal Saiyan crest printed on the chest, and took his motorcycle to a place where he knew he could vent without any sort of testosterone-filled judgment.

"Vegeta!" Chi Chi announced as she opened her door, happily licking a spoon of fudge, "I didn't think I'd see you today!"

He smiled at her as she let him in, taking in the fresh chocolate smell that decorated her quaint home. "I know I didn't call, but I got to riding on my bike and I guess I just ended up here."

"You're still ridin' that thing?" She put her hands on her hips and casted him a disapproving look. "You're gonna kill someone some day! You already almost killed me before!"

He chuckled, removing his jacket as he took a seat on the sofa. "I've gotten better since then, Cheech."

"I sure hope so!" She watched him with a careful eye as he reclined against the back of the sofa, rubbing his hands down the sides of his face. "You okay, Vegeta?" She asked concerned, moving to sit across from him.

"I don't even know anymore Chi Chi," he looked at some odd spot on the ceiling as he rested his head back, folding his arms behind it for support, "I feel like I'm feverish with all this incessant… _heat_."

"A fever!?" Chi Chi rose automatically, dashing to the kitchen, much to Vegeta's bewilderment. He hadn't even the time to process exactly what it was she was doing before she reappeared, handing him a glass of water and some yellow pills. "Take this Vegeta! I don't want you gettin' all sick and passin' it off to my Gohan!"

Vegeta looked from her palm to her face, repeating the gesture once more before caving in and laughing. Same old Chi Chi with her naïve mindset, but he wouldn't change it about her. "It's just an expression, Chi Chi. I'm not really sick."

"Oh," she breathed a sigh of relief, before bending down to lightly punch his shoulder, "well don't scare me like that! I was gonna go in there and get to fixin' you some soup!" At the mere mentioning of food, a growl that could only belong to a Saiyan erupted from Vegeta's stomach. He glanced at her sheepishly, rubbing his stomach and pouting his lip. She shook her head in amusement. "Alright you big baby, come on. Seems like I have three children to do some cookin' for." She turned from him, mumbling something about Saiyans and their appetites.

He leapt to his feet at the promise of a meal - especially Chi Chi's cooking - and practically ran into the youngest Saiyan of the household.

"Ouch!" Gohan exclaimed, rubbing the side of his head where Vegeta's elbow hit him. "That hurt, Vegeta!"

"Don't yell at me, Gohan! You should watch where you're walking."

"I was in a hurry! Mom said I have to spend some time training today, but I'm hungry," Gohan rubbed his stomach and pouted, making Vegeta wonder if he too looked as pitiful a moment ago.

"Well lucky for you, kid, she just went to make some food now. How's about we go join her?"

Gohan nodded gleefully, wrapping his tail tightly around his stomach like Vegeta's. They entered the kitchen to find Chi Chi banging around pots and pans and instructing Kakarot to cut some carrots. He smiled at the duo as they entered, saluting Vegeta with a hand swipe away from his forehead. "Hey, Vegeta! You joinin' us for lunch?"

"Seems like it," Vegeta pulled a chair out and sat next to Kakarot, reaching for a carrot to help slice it. He watched Kakarot's careful eye as he struggled to slice the carrot correctly, wiggling his tongue from his mouth.

"Saiyans weren't meant to do this kind of stuff," Kakarot sighed, slicing one too thin, "you're lucky you're a prince, Vegeta. You got all kinds of people to do stuff for you like this."

"Eh, it's alright," Vegeta bit off a piece of the carrot he was holding, chewing over it thoughtfully, "my mom pretty much does all of the cooking these days. Says she'd rather have it done right than to rely on anyone else."

"How is the Queen?" Chi Chi asked as she dumped some clear broth into a large pot. "I haven't been around to see her in a long time."

Vegeta shrugged, looking down at the table. "She's doing alright. It's funny because you would never imagine there was a real problem brewing if you looked at her. She's as happy as can be."

"Probably because she finally has a lady livin' under her roof," Chi Chi turned to face the table, giving Vegeta a coy smile, "I'm willin' to bet she's not the only one who's happy about that."

Vegeta coughed loudly, practically choking on his carrot and Chi Chi's words. His cheeks turned a magnificent shade of mauve as he attempted to control himself.

"Careful, Vegeta," Gohan passed him a glass of water, his innocent eyes showing concern, "Mom always says you should chew slowly."

Vegeta chugged the water down, relief immediately washing over his irritated throat, and slit his eyes at the half Saiyan child. He wasn't expecting to have _this_ conversation in front of Kakarot and Gohan, but it appeared that life just wasn't fair to him.

"You gathered yourself yet?" Chi Chi pulled up a chair to sit at the small, round, wooden table and rested her chin on the back of her hands, an eyebrow raised. "What did I say to get you all out of sorts like that?"

Vegeta sighed, leaning in the back of his chair to avoid the accusatory gaze of his friend. Of _course_ she knew what she had said; there was very little that he had ever been able to hide from the black haired Earthling, so why bother now? "You already know what the problem is, Cheech."

"Oh?" She asked, feigning ignorance, a devious smile playing upon her lips. "Is the problem a certain blue haired woman?"

Vegeta nodded. Chi Chi chuckled and poked her husband in the side with her elbow. "I told ya! I knew there was no way that Vegeta could stand livin' with someone of the opposite sex and not be all bothered by it! Especially not when he's as full of himself as he is!"

Kakarot looked over at Vegeta, slightly confused. "She's been sayin' that," he said, searching Vegeta's face for some sort of answers, "but I don't know exactly what she means. You're not thinking of….of _sleepin'_ with her, are you?"

"Kakarot!" Chi Chi slapped him on his upper bicep, covering Gohan's ears with her hands, "not in front of our boy! He doesn't need to taint his mind by things like that!"

"Well?" Kakarot ignored her, his eyes pressing heavily down into Vegeta's, "Are you planning on…havin _fun_ with her?"

Vegeta felt his face grow increasingly hot with the barrage of questions that the messy haired Saiyan was throwing at him. He glanced over to Gohan, the young boy looking up at his mother as he tried to wiggle free of her grip, and smiled. "Say, Gohan, why don't you go outside and practice some of those punches your mom's been teaching you? I know she wants you to be really strong to help with Launch."

Gohan nodded sullenly, feeling like he was being tossed aside. "It's no fun training by yourself."

"I'll come out in a bit, Gohan," Chi Chi ruffled her hands through his hair, instantly earning a smile from him, "just let the grown-ups do some talkin', and your mama will work on teachin' you the best moves she's got! We can train all night while your daddy cleans up the dinner mess!"

Gohan nodded with a bit more gusto, running to the backyard in good spirits. Chi Chi watched him off with a peaceful grin, before turning back to the Saiyan men. "Okay, now it's just us. So what's on your mind, Vegeta?"

"Where do I start? I mean, you know Bulma is a handful and then some. And since the day I offered her a place to stay, she's been nothing but a headache."

"I'll say," Kakarot agreed, crossing his arms, "she _did_ try to blow up Vegetasai, after all. And she almost killed Chi Chi!"

"Aaaaah, she wasn't so bad," Chi Chi closed her eyes, smiling at the memory of the adrenaline spiked, bloody showdown, "she _was_ pretty strong, that's for sure! I can't wait to see what all that trainin' does for her. Maybe you should bring her over here so we can all get to trainin' together!"

"She would _never_ ," Vegeta bit, "all she wants to do is eat, sleep and breathe in the gravity chamber. And when she _does_ come out…" Visuals ran through his mind of sports bra clenched to pale skin, short workout gear that resembeled underwear clinging desperately to well-toned cheeks. He caught his breath as his mind tormented him of everything Bulma had subjected him to during her almost six month stay at the Royal Compound. He sighed and laid his head on the table, lightly banging is forehead against the wood.

" _That_ bad, Vegeta?" Chi Chi whistled, reaching across her husband for a carrot herself. "I can't believe _you_ of all people are flustered over a woman. I remember when you were still a teenager, and I had to practically keep you, Nappa and Raditz from lookin' under the skirts of these Saiyan women! Not that they needed my help _all_ that much."

"I don't know what's my problem," Vegeta's voice was muffled through the wood as he stayed in his moping position. "She gets under my skin in a way that I've never had to deal with before." Vegeta opened his eyes to stare at the mint green tiles that Chi Chi called her floor and took a dramatic deep breath.

Chi Chi smiled at Kakarot, who was caught up in giving Vegeta a disapproving eye, and stood up. She tied the red sash that hugged the middle of her blue gi, stretching out her lower calf muscles. "Alright, Vegeta, there's only one way to fix this problem you're facin'. "

Vegeta brought his head up from the table to toss Chi Chi a questioning look. "And what's that consist of? "

Chi Chi crouched down into a squat as she stretched her arms above her head, synchronizing her breaths with the fluid motions. She looked Vegeta sternly in the eye as she stood again. "You're gonna have to fight her."

Vegeta found himself lost in the weight of her words. Fight _who_? Certainly Chi Chi couldn't have been talking about _Bulma_. Absolutely not. There was no way that Chi Chi was suggesting that the man who was almost _killed_ when Bulma arrived to Vegetesai (why was he stupid enough to think he could 'help' Chi Chi again?) would stand a chance fighting her _now_? Nearly two years later? When she had only gotten stronger because of something that _he_ invented?

In the words of Raditz: Chi Chi was a fool.

"Why are ya lookin' like that, Vegeta? "

"Because you're fucking crazy!" Vegeta didn't miss a beat, "I'm sitting here practically telling you that I can barely _function_ around the woman, and you want me to _fight her?"_

"That's exactly what I want you to do!" Chi Chi began to walk towards the back door, occasionally stretching her toned muscles. "There's only one way to appeal to a woman like us, it seems. I don't know much about bein' an Earthlin', but I can tell you that I wouldn't have married Kakarot if he hadn't have shown me he was strong! So that must be somethin'." She stopped in her stride, keeping her back to them. "I bet you Bulma just needs you to show her you're strong and she will be nice to you." She turned to glare at him over her shoulder, her mouth turning upwards into a grin. "And _I'm_ gonna train ya. "

Vegeta swallowed. She _was_ serious. It's not that Vegeta didn't have any strength, if his godly sculpted physique had anything to say about it, but there was no way that he stood a chance against Bulma. Maybe in an area such as mathematics or science or physics, but definitely not on a sparring level.

But did Chi Chi have a point? Was it possible that Bulma was the victim of being bored and not having anyone to spar with, thus it was the reason why she was so… _impossible?_ Chi Chi was an Earthling, whether her memory was intact or not, so maybe she was on to something.

"Hey," Kakarot pulled him out of his thoughts, nudging him with a spoon, "you should take her on her offer. She's been powerin' up like crazy lately. I can't even keep up with her anymore. If she's willin' to train you, don't be an idiot and turn it down."

Vegeta watched the messy haired Saiyan, his mind chewing over Kakarots advice. Chi Chi was the most skilled fighter on the planet, and it wouldn't hurt to tap into even the smallest ounce of that incredible strength. But Vegeta had given up fighting so long ago, back when he tried to enter his father's tournament and had barely made it through the last round, instead focusing on an area he could absorb himself into: science. His quizzical mind needed to know an answer to everything. How could he create artificial gravity. What specific natural rocks did he require to create an elixir to travel into the rest of space? Why did he invite an enemy to live with him, for the purpose of scientific research, and allow himself to become captivated by the study of anatomy?

It was this burning question that led him to follow his friend out of the door, shedding his fitted blue shirt on the back of the kitchen chair.

OooOooo

"And we'll have a selection of finberry tarts with gnösk sauce, and maybe some gilcurd ribs and…. Ooh! Perhaps I'll whisk together some hijo paste! Vegeta likes his gilcurd drowning in hijo paste!"

"That he does," King Vegeta stroked his auburn beard as he signed over the last documents that sat on his desk, his confirmation of an intergalactic trading system with outside galaxies, and nodded at his wife's dinner menu ideas. "But dear, what's the occasion for this feast?"

Queen Yasai folded her hands in her laps as she smiled at him, her eyes closing into half circled slits. "Why the wedding, my darling!"

King Vegeta stopped his pen in the middle of his signature and peered at her through his full lashes. "Come again, my love?"

She reached over and playfully slapped him on the arm, although he still had to rub a hand over the area where it stung partially. "The wedding! You remember, like the one we discussed yesterday?"

He chuckled at his wife's aloofness. Surely she wasn't still considering _that_ logic, was she? "Yasai, I understand that you like to carry on in the romance of things, and it's always something I found fondly in you, but my precious, I don't think that is something that is possible."

Yasai frowned, resting a palm on her hip. "And just why not, dear? Are you telling me that you don't agree with me?"

"No, no, not at all! I'm only saying that I think you should… _reconsider_ things. Our son is someone who likes to be challenged."

"And what is more challenging than Bulma?"

"Bulma is a little _too_ challenging. This is the same man who stopped fighting in the tournaments, I doubt he will find Bulma a goal in his quests for a wife."

Yasai pouted, crossing her arms as she folded her head into her chest. "But she's just _so_ beautiful! She would give us lovely grandchildren—"

"Yasai—"

"—and she's the perfect bill for a Saiyan woman! When we're gone, we'll need someone appropriate to help our precious Vegeta run this planet! And who is better than one of the strongest women in the galaxy! Mark my words, my darling, there's something _stirring_ there." She chuckled to herself while casting her husband a devious grin.

King Vegeta laughed heartedly and sat his pen down on the desk, throwing his head back. "So you saw him sneak in too?"

Yasai nodded, unable to contain her laughter anymore. "He tried to use my good pan to cover his… _excitement."_

King Vegeta shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe you _are_ right-"

"Hey guys!" Vegeta strolled through the living room, making his way towards the backdoor. His parents watched him with surprise, taking in his naked torso and his black joggers with his prince's emblem on the side. He hadn't worn that attire since…

"Son," King Vegeta said finally, "is that your training gear that you wore n the tournament?"

Vegeta ceased his walking, refusing to turn around fully. That way, his parents didn't have to see the color of embarrassment that tainted his cheeks. He nodded stiffly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"And where exactly are you headed to?" The King asked, delighted. While King Vegeta loved the brilliance that his son carried, figuring out devices and equipment that even _he_ could not, there was something satisfying and familiar about watching the heir to his throne dig into his warrior roots.

Vegeta remained silent, staring out the back window into the red sands of the backyard, the evening sun turning the compound into a brilliant shade of orange. _This_ was also why he didn't want to take Chi Chi's advice. Vegeta didn't want anyone thinking that he was going to bother with martial arts anymore.

"To the gravity chambers," he replied, barely getting out the last syllable before shutting the door behind him, leaving his parents to watch the empty space where their son stood only moments ago.

King Vegeta took a deep breath and shuffled his papers over his desk. He coughed as he picked up his pen and glanced over at his wife. "So are you considering a three sun cycle wedding, or will that be too hot?"

Yasai smiled. "Maybe a two sun cycle ceremony, dear. We don't want the poor thing sweating off all of her makeup."

oooOooo

Vegeta took in a deep breath of air as he readied himself to knock on the compound doors. He had spent the entire day before training with the relentless Chi Chi. Kakarot was not lying when he said that she had only gotten stronger. Vegeta could barely keep up with her high powered kick and punches, and a few times he had found himself sprawled out on her lawn gasping for precious air. He was pulling straws, it seemed like, and all of an effort to find some common ground with Bulma.

It would have been a lie if he told himself that he _wasn't_ trying to get on her good side for potential added benefits, but it wasn't his primary motivation. From the day Bulma touched down on the multi colored sands of Vegetesai, Vegeta had found her oddly fascinating. She was the first person who had him running to a dictionary after a conversation for translation, or watching her unapologetic strength being tested when she trained in the chamber. She had mentioned that it was _she_ who had invented her own space craft, and Vegeta was speechless. For years, he had wanted to create the perfect space craft so that his father could cut ties with the shady –yet highly innovative—Colds, who primarily provided the Saiyans with technology. Vegeta wanted his planet to be independent again, and no amount of fear against the potential fight with Bulma would stop him from achieving this goal.

He mustered up the courage to knock, the solid steel feeling heavier than normal under his fist, and heard the sounds of the simulator powering down. Bulma mumbled a string of curses, that got increasingly louder and violent as she mover closet to the door. She swung the door open wildly, the ice in her irises cutting him across the face. Her face was flushed in a flamingo pink, her breathing erratic, and her lips were pouted into a frown. Vegeta broke away from the intense gaze, instead choosing to focus on the flowers that painted the door way.

But _God._

"What do you need, tiny male?" She smirked at him slightly, a blink-once-and-you'll-miss-it kind of grin, before her face settled bak into her signature smirk. He took a deep breath, poking out his chest so that he oozed in confidence.

"I want to fight you."

There. He said it. The words left his mouth, as sweet as honeydew and acid, but he had said them. The air between them thickened, only the sounds of his racing heart coursing through his ears. Bulma opened the gravity door wider, her facial expression unreadable. Vegeta felt his forehead slicken with sweat as each tense second passed, becoming more obvious to him that he had made a mistake.

Bulma began to chuckle, softly at first, and then an eruption of laughter ensued. She tossed her head back as a laugh that Vegeta had never heard her used spilled from her lips. She calmed herself, bringing her head back down and looking him squarely in the eye, her lips in a crooked grin. "You can't be serious," she said in a low tone, "you want to fight _me_?"

"That's what I said."

"Little man, you couldn't even stand a chance with me years ago. And I know for a fact that you haven't trained in the slightest. Are you in _that_ much of a rush to your death?"

"I don't care about your shit talking, Bulma," Vegeta stretched his neck and crouched into a fighting stance, cocking his arms in the air, "It's evident you don't respect me, so I want to change that."

"Respect you? What makes you think that you even _deserve_ my respect?"

"That's the problem. You don't understand that you deserve _my_ respect. Since you've arrived here, I've done nothing but work my ass off to help you, and I don't even know why. For all I know, you'll take all the good I've done for you and use it against us all. But something inside of me is telling me different. For some reason, Chi Chi thought you deserved more than an alien death, and I've learned to trust her over the years. So I'm going on a limb here and trying to at least be civil with you. But I can't do that if you don't respect me, so I want to fight you." Where had all that courage come from? Vegeta felt as if he was a spirit lingering above, watching all of this play out. Surely there was no way these confident words had escaped his lips.

Apparently they had. Bulma's eyes narrowed toward him as she slowly stepped foreward. Their eyes locked in a tight duel, the air between them buzzing off of her overflowing energy. Vegeta swallowed as he watched her irises turn even more of an electric blue, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He did not falter, however, and kept his feet firmly to the ground, despite everything in his body screaming at him to run away.

"You are a thorn in my side, _Prince_ _Vegeta,_ " she seethed, his title spilling from her lips like ít was a bitter wine, "I am not here to make friends. You and that pathetic woman that disgraces me can burn in the multitudes of hell for all I care, but I am forced to deal with you all for the time being. You've insulted me, your planet is beneath me in more ways than I can physically count, and now you _demand_ that I respect you, even though sparing your life is the _only_ favor I plan on giving you. Is that what you're telling me?"

Vegeta gulped. "Y-yes."

She growled at his response, and before he could register what she was going to do, she reappeared in front of him, her face dangerously close to his.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

She phased behind him, and Vegeta felt a sharp pain in his lower back. He buckled to his knees, feeling the wind knocked out of his chest. Was _this_ her strength? If so, he wasn't sure that he could even continue on in his mission. But he had to get her on the same level as she, and Chi Chi deserved better than for all of her efforts to have gone in vain. _Use your eyes like limbs_ , she had taught him, and he stilled his mind to do such that. Bulma stood behind him, her arms crossed, watching him with a perched eyebrow.

"This is pathetic," she spat, "this is supposed to be a fight, is it not?"

Vegeta couldn't let her continue to think that. He needed Bulma to show him even a sliver of respect. He needed her to treat him like the prince he was, like the scientist he was, like the _man_ he was. Otherwise, his help was pointless, her being here was pointless, and his faith in Chi Chi's decision making was pointless.

So he got up.

 _Make your enemy confused about what you are going to do_. Her second lesson. Striking straight on with someone as keen of senses as Bulma was futile. He circled around his position slowly, earning himself a condescending giggle from her. At his full strength, he raced towards her, not missing the coy smile that played upon her lips. As he neared to her front, he phased out quickly, rising above her to bring his fist down harshly with the side of her face. It was soft, too soft for someone so hard, and his world went into slow motion. Blue clouded his vision as he watched the contact, Bulma's face sharply twisting to the other side. She fell over to her knees and he back flipped behind her, looking down at his fist.

Had he...had he _hurt_ her?

Bulma was hunched over, and she wiped her mouth. She slowly brought her head up, and Vegeta was expecting her to rip his head open.

Instead she smiled, her brows furrowed together, a purple patch forming on her cheek.

"Not bad," she said darkly, "I see that woman has been training you."

"I-I'm sorry!" He really hadn't meant to hurt her, even if she could handle it, and frankly he wasn't expecting to get her off guard. "I don't like hitting women!"

"Fool!" She screamed, rising to her feet and clenching her fists at her side. "This is why your entire race has become such a disappointment! I am your opponent, regardless of gender, and you should treat me as such! Do you think I've made it to where I am because I've picked and chosen my competition? No! I fight any challenger, no matter the size or whatever the hell is between their legs! And then I get stronger! You apologizing to me is an insult!"

Vegeta was speechless. So she _wanted_ him to hit her? Chi Chi _was_ right all along?

"You're not a fighter," she calmed her voice and straightened her posture. "Fighting you would be pointless, and I wouldn't get anything from it. If you wish to seriously battle me, then get stronger. But you and I know that isn't going to happen. _That_ ," she pointed to the gravity chamber behind her, "is your battle field. If you want my cooperation around here, then surpise me with your ongoing skill in your sciences. Don't waste my time anymore. You have nothing to offer me in any other fields."

Vegeta shook his head. So Chi Chi wasn't right. Vegeta watched her, and an idea struck him. He was Vegeta, for fucks sake, and here he was practically begging her for her respect like some attention starved pet. When had _he_ ever begged for attention? How many times did his parents throw balls in his honor, only to have his pick of a woman at the end of the night? How many Saiyan women had dueled with each other to get the chance for him to take her to dinner? It had never won him over, the promise of fixing gadgets was more tempting than boring conversations and batted eyelashes, but his ego never starved. He _was_ Vegeta.

And her lip was bleeding.

He approached her, watching confusion dance across her face as he got closer. He felt her tense up as he crossed the intimate point between them, and he did not stop. She flinched back, and he could feel her energy roll off of her in waves, but he did not falter. He reached towards her mouth, gently cupping his fingers over her delicate chin. He was amazed at how soft she felt, even when she was on the prowl.

Using his thumb, he traced her bottom lip, her mouth slightly parted in shock, and wiped the blood away. He pressed his stare into her eyes, catching and holding her gaze, and he slightly smiled.

"So we have an understanding, then?" He said softly, his voice dripping down several octaves.

Bulma watched him without speaking, and Vegeta noticed how in that moment she looked completely normal. Gone was the woman who threatened his life every chance she got, and before him stood just an Earthling woman, who was struck at the contact a man was giving her. His chest huffed as his other palm got clammy, but he didn't want her to sense his nerves. He caught her eyes dart down quickly to his bronzed chest, and it made him puff out his pecks further with pride. For once, he felt in control, he felt her become jelly in the palm of his hands. He wondered how far he could take it.

He leaned his face in closer, feeling the breath escape her lips, and his eyes never left hers. Was he about to kiss her? Was she about to let him?

 _Thank you Chi Chi. Fighting might not have worked, but it led to this_.

His lips were painfully close, and he was about to wrap them around hers, when he felt air under his fingertips. His eyes widened, staring at the side of the gravity chamber where she just was. He looked around in shock at the abandoment, but couldn't see her.

He stopped and scratched his head before he heard her soft breaths. She stood in the entrance of the gravity chamber and looked at him, her hand pressed against the side of her mouth. Her face was still painted in confusion, but her irritation pooled through, replacing whatever shred of a person that Vegeta had just sworn was there.

"Don't ever touch me like that again, little man," she said quickly, and turned around and entered the chamber. Leaving Vegeta (once again) in the yard.

He watched the space of the gravity chamber and smirked. Let Bulma say what she want, but he didn't miss the way she had looked at him when he had her under his grasp. And he certainly didn't miss the blush that blossomed on her face before she went back inside of the chamber.

The doors opened again and she appeared in the frame, looking much more composed.

"Those clothes you said you would make me."

"What about them?"

"I expect them by the end of the week. I'm sure with your..." she mulled over the choice of words she wanted to use, her face contorting into a thoughtful, yet cruel, expression, " _intelligence_ , that it will be beneficial, and I don't wish to wait. I need to get prepped for Launch." Her eyes raked over him again, lingering on his chest, before she cursed and entered the chambers.

Vegeta chuckled. So that must be her way of saying, 'sure, I'll respect you Vegeta!' He would accept it, after all, Vegetesai wasn't built in a day.

For now, he had work to do where was most comfortable: his lab below the compound. Forget fighting. Bulma had called him out. He _was_ no fighter, and was more than okay with leaving that up to the two women. He would make the suits for her, and he would relish in his strengths in that.

He would also relish in the way he had slightly cracked that glass that was Bulma.

But first, there was a phone call that he had to make to a certain Earthling, so that he could give his proper thanks.

oooOooo

_A/N:_

_Thank you guys so much for reviewing this story and reading it! It means a lot to me that you guys are willing to accept this as not a one shot lol. I hope I'm providing you guys with an interesting read, and I hope that I entertained you with this chapter! For those of you reading Concerto as well, I will be working on that update this week. Going to keep the juices flowing while the inspiration is fresh ;)_

_Anyways, I hope to talk to you guys soon! Please rate and review please!_

_Also, want to gush out with me ever? Although most of you guys are from Tumblr, I believe, if you haven't you can find me on there under Bitchii-usa! And now I'm using my twitter again (same name). I'm still getting in the habit of using it more often, but I plan on it._

_Until next time friends!_


	4. And Fixing And Fixing And Fixing

_**Swapped Four** _

_**And Fixing, And Fixing, And Fixing.** _

_A/N: So this chapter was a rough draft that I wasn't sure I was going to post. And that is why it is out so quickly. I was conflicted about how directly I wanted to follow the DBZ original story line, especially considering that I wanted this as original as possible. But after seeing Rutbisbe's_ _**gorgeous** _ _art work (find her masterpieces on Tumblr under the same name!) I've decided to go ahead and use this part in my story.I changed a few things to go along with the previous chapter, and I really hope you guys enjoy what I have planned. Always go with your gut, right?_

_Without further ado…(rest of AN follows story)_

oooOooo

Never mind. _Never mind._

Vegeta scowled as he leant over a workbench, typing in various codes into his computer as he trimmed another piece of fabric from his custom made threads. He repositioned the glasses on his nose as he looked down to read the final codes to make the fabric elastic yet snug. This was his third attempt at the attire; each prototype that he made prior had just seemed to come out wrong, but this time he was confident that he had _it_. The schematics were perfect, his blueprints were coming to life as he designed the perfect clothing-slash-armor for Bulma, and yet he couldn't help but feel immense irritation as he tried to work.

He had really begun to believe that he and Bulma had hit a new height in their friendship, if _that_ was even the correct adjective, but since he had attempted to fight her a few weeks prior, all she had done was completely barricade herself away from everyone else. Or more so, _him_.

She still came to meals, according to his mother, when he was tucked away in his lab, building things to help _her_ improve in strength and reach heights that she would never dream of, but whenever he showed his face on the upper level compound, she was nowhere in sight. It aggravated him more than he would probably let on, and he found himself buried in his work to mask his true emotions. He really cursed himself for picking up his mother's traits of not giving up on people.

But damn it all if Bulma was not really pushing the limits of his patience.

He had gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he missed the final incision from his heated blade, running the sharp, hot object right over his index finger. "Fuck!" he spat, dropping the knife and computer and backing away from the work bench while breathing heavily. This was ridiculous. Worrying about the woman who was living in his home was beginning to completely unravel him, making the fur on his tail stand at attention. He sighed as he cradled his wounded finger, making his way over to the sink and first aid kit.

"Vegeta?" King Vegeta descended down the stairs, his face showing concern.

"Yeah dad," Vegeta ran his finger under cold water, shaking his head at himself.

"What's all the ruckus, son?" King Vegeta looked around the room at the neglected laptop and blade, frowning at the unfinished uniform that sat on the work bench. "This is excellent, Vegeta. Have you finally succeeded in making this for Bulma?"

Vegeta scoffed, turning off the water and reaching for alcohol pads. "I _was_ ," he said sharply, "until I cut myself and got blood on the fabric. Now I'll have to start all over," he rested his hands on the sink as he collected himself, "If I even _want_ to."

"I see." King Vegeta studied his son, taking notice at the way his tail was twitching against his leg. He smiled at the impeccably good timing that his wife had, once again noting how she always managed to save the day in some sort of way. "Son, why don't you get yourself cleaned up and meet me upstairs? I have a proposition that I believe could really help you."

"Can't it wait, dad?" Vegeta scrunched his eyes together tightly and released a tense breath. "I really should scrap what I have going down here."

"Just give your old man some time upstairs. You never know, it just might solve all the problems you think you have." King Vegeta lingered around the lab for a moment more before taking his leave upstairs. Vegeta watched his father go, knowing that the King left little to no room for him to argue about staying behind. Sighing, he wrapped his finger with the alcohol pad before discarding it and replacing it with a band-aid. He looked over at the nearly-finished suit that lay on the workbench, taunting him of his recent screw up. _What a waste_ , he thought, feeling like somewhat of a failure. He broke away his contact, not wanting to torment himself anymore, turned off the light to the lab and headed upstairs.

He followed the trail of laughter that seemed to be coming from the throne room. Vegeta was already confused, knowing that the throne room was only held for official meetings and candid interviews. Other than that, the large wooden doors were always shut tight, keeping out even the Prince of Vegetasai. His mother's flowery laugh was infectious, playing like music as it washed over the compound. He turned the corner to find her back towards him, sitting in the middle of the throne room in her favorite iron chair.

His footsteps announced his arrival, and Yasai turned around, her hand covering his mouth that was still shaking with laughter. "Vegeta!" she said lively, turning around slightly. "Come in, my sweet! We have a visitor your father and I want you to meet."

Vegeta entered cautiously, running his mind over any meetings that he might have forgotten for the day. He entered the spacious chamber and walked around his mother, getting a good look at the visitor that Yasai had mentioned. At the end of the long wooden, conference table, sat a woman diagonally across from his father. She smiled at him shyly, fixing her square framed glasses on her nose and moving a piece of her midnight purple hair behind her ears. He readjusted his glasses as well as he settled his eyes on her.

"Vegeta," Yasai said cheerfully, "This is Nasubi. She comes from the southern camp of Vegetasai, more specifically the camp that oversees the maintenance of the pods that the Cold's send in."

Vegeta nodded at her, and she did the same, not breaking the eye contact. "So what brings you to the Royal Compound, Nasubi?"

She straightened her posture and her eyes became more serious, less timid than when she was being introduced and cleared her throat. "Well, I was in the top tier of scientists at the southern camp, and I oversaw every machine, computer and pod that arrived on that hemisphere of the planet. I enjoyed my work, and I found it very fulfilling, but I was beginning to feel stifled, like I couldn't venture out and do things on my own. So I came here, hoping to get a job."

Vegeta had to admit that he was impressed. A top tier scientist that had dealt directly with the Colds was coming here to offer her assistance?

"Vegeta, I know that you have been solely working on all the wonderful things you've built for us around here, son," King Vegeta grabbed his attention, "but if we ever want to get out from under the Cold's hand and become independent again, we'll have to start focusing on the bigger picture."

"But what is it exactly you want to do?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow at Nasubi, redirecting his attention to her. "The last thing I require is someone who can perform maintenance on machines that come from the Colds. That's childs play compared to what I'm working on here."

"I know all about you, Vegeta," Nasubi smirked at him, producing an envelope from her lap, "there's been talks about the simulator that you've built in your back yard, and I'm aware that you hand designed the new weaponry for the Saiyan Elite Forces. That's astounding, especially for one man to do it. I'm well aware that you surpass the Colds in your innovative designs, and quite frankly I'm giddy at just thinking about what you have in store for the technological advancement of this planet." She rustled through some paperwork and handed the sheets to the King and Queen, before producing a copy to Vegeta. "I'm more than just a mechanic, you see, I also have some original designs myself that I think are beneficial."

Vegeta looked over the paperwork she showed him and couldn't help but marvel. She had blue print designs for more advanced pods that could travel outside of the nearby planets. Not even the Colds had managed to think of something so innovative. He flipped through the sheets some more, growing more and more impressed at the blueprints and layouts that Nasubi composed. Advancements on his weaponry designs for the Elite Force, new water tanks that could supply Saiyans with fresher water during the three sun cycle months, all of it were things that he had considered, but didn't have the extra hands to actually get it done.

"This is amazing," he said in awe, "but I don't understand. If you have the background of working at the camps, and the intelligence that might even rival _mine_ , why are you limiting yourself to work under me?"

She played with her glasses again, her cheeks turning into cherries as she laughed nervously. "Well, you see, the thing is that I've been following your studies for some time now, Prince Vegeta. While I was at the camp, I would spend a lot of nights reading your science blogs about your theories. Your name is a big talk about the camps, and the Saiyan people stand behind you in their hopes to become a rivaled planet in the sciences. There's so much to learn from you, and if I ever want to make it on my own, then I know there's no better place than to come but here." Nasubi looked away from him shyly, letting the quiet of the room wash over her. Feeling a now-or-never sense of courage, she threw her weight on the table and stood, her tail frantically swishing behind her. "Please take me as an apprentice, Prince Vegeta!"

Yasai coughed, forcing her son to look at her. She winked at him, nodding towards the other female Saiyan.

"Well, son?" King Vegeta said, "if what just happened downstairs is any indication that you could use some assistance, I would say now is the best time."

Vegeta sighed. He _really_ didn't like working with others, especially when it came to his exclusive designs. But the woman _was_ talented…and smart…and remaking Bulma's suit would take time away from working on other inventions he would like to start.

His lips curled at the sudden idea. How wonderful would it be to send someone _else_ to the gravity chamber when Bulma ruined more bots? He could avoid her glare…and her _everything else_ and get a peace of mind again. After all, if she was going to ignore him, maybe it was about time that he did the same.

"Fine," he said, "I will take your assistance. But understand that this doesn't mean that my lab is a play store. If you are working under me, than I expect that you will give me your assistance in whatever I see fit. And you must understand that we have a _guest_ here that will require your scientific assistance as well."

"Bulma. Right?" Natsubi sat back down, moving her glasses to the top of her head and trying not to spill over in bliss. "The blue haired woman from Earth?"

Vegeta nodded. "She may no longer be a threat to Vegetasai, but it is best that you do not rattle her chains. So if she asks for assistance, you will need to run it by me first."

"Fascinating," Natsubi stated in a hushed whisper, noticing the quizzical look Vegeta tossed her. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that, I've _never_ seen someone so strong before, outside of that woman who helped out the Elites when she came. To think that I can be so close to such a specimen is astounding!"

"She's not a specimen, dear," Yasai chuckled, "she's our very important guest!"

"Oh, yes, of course," Natsubi cleared her throat at the mistake, "I only meant that I'm not afraid of being too close to her, if that's what you mean. If anything, I _want_ to know more."

"That's not as fascinating as you would think," Vegeta replied bitterly, his voice oozing with his personal feelings, "so I would advise that you don't have any contact with her. Nonetheless, follow me down to the lab. I'd like to get you acquainted with everything, if you have the time."

Natsubi smiled widely, her face threatening to split in two, as she stood up, smoothing her figure hugging pencil skirt. "I have a lot of time! I just have to catch the late shuttle back to the camp to retrieve my things. The apartment I rented won't allow me to move in until tomorrow."

"You came all this way, _and_ bought a place without knowing the final answer?"

Natsubi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a risk taker. I refuse to accept no for an answer until I've uncovered every possible yes first. That's how I like to live my life."

 _Good luck with that_ , Vegeta replied mentally, although he turned around to escort her to the underground lab, unable to stop the smile that spread over his face at her giddiness.

oooOooo

The highest moon in the sky shone down over the compound, picking up the purple highlights of Nasubi's hair as she finally exited through the front door. Between learning everything in Vegeta's massive lab and asking questions, she had spent the majority of the day with him, locked under the compound. He hadn't minded much; in fact he found himself enjoying the bouncing of ideas that occurred between the two scientists. Dare he say it, but he was actually sad to see her go.

"Thank you so much for the opportunity, Prince Vegeta," she beamed, smoothing her shoulder length hair over her shoulder.

"You can just call me Vegeta," he smiled, "if we're going to be working together, I don't see a need for such formalities."

She nodded her head and blushed, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of being able to work under someone she admired so much. "Well, I guess I'd better be going, if I want to make my last shuttle. But I'll be back the day after tomorrow. We can run those diagnostics on the suit, if you'd like."

"I would definitely like that," Vegeta replied. Nasubi was able to provide him with data that not only enhanced his design of the suit, but it also meant that he could easily replicate it in case Bulma had managed to ruin one. Her working with him opened the realm of possibilities that he thought were long gone, and for once he was looking forward to actually getting things done.

Nasubi looked at him again, a sense of gratitude in her eyes, and she extended her arm in front of her. "Well, here's to the start of a beautiful partnership, Vegeta."

He took her hand in his, silently marveling on how smooth her skin was. His hand felt calloused compared to hers, and he wondered how she was able to keep it so pristine in between experiments and hard work. She shook it slightly, and he could feel the dampness of her palm against his own. He noticed at that moment how pretty she was, with her ruby red eyes shining marvelously under the light. She took her hand back, wiping her nerves against her black skirt. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"Have a good night, Nasubi."

She nodded, smiling like a hyperactive child, and finally turned away from him. Vegeta watched to make sure she entered her vehicle safely, and turned back to enter the compound. His stomach screamed at him at the blatant neglect of being fed, and he swiftly walked to the kitchen.

The lights were off, and he expected his mother to at least have saved him some leftovers, so he beelined for the refrigerator, the sliver of light illuminating the dark room.

"Well, looks like someone had a busy night."

Vegeta felt his stomach drop at the sudden invasion of silence, and he whipped his head around to see Bulma sitting at the table eating her late dinner. She had just come from a shower, her blue hair set in wet waves and piled to the top of her head, and her robe wrapped around her glistening frame. Her eyes were cold as they looked at him, and he moved to switch on a light.

"Jesus, Bulma," he said, trying to keep his voice down, "don't scare me like that!"

"Hmph," she muttered, biting into a piece of boar meat, " _that's_ why you're not a fighter. You can't even detect the presence of another."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and walked back to the fridge, turning away from her. "I don't want to hear your shit tonight, Bulma. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I'm hungry. If you don't mind, I'd like to eat in peace."

"Well perhaps you wouldn't be so tired if you spent less time in studying Saiyan women and more time in fixing my damned suit!"

Vegeta shut the door angrily, turning around and marching up the table. "Not that it's any of _your_ business, but that woman was a scientist who will be helping me. And helping me is the equivalent of helping _you_. So keep your crass comments to yourself!"

"Helping me," she spat, "would mean that I would be getting immensely stronger by the day. Instead you refuse to add to the gravitational pull simulators, and the bots you keep fixing are just boring." She looked away from him, her mouth pulled downwards. "I'm at a standstill in my training."

"How is that even possible? I'm willing to bet that you're the strongest that you've ever been! If I add anything more to the gravity, you'll be crushed to death!"

"It doesn't matter!" she slammed her palm against the table, shattering a few pieces of wood into splinters. "If I'm not at my absolute strongest by the time Launch arrives, then this will all be for nothing! And not even your precious Chi Chi will be able to stop them!"

"She will be able to!" He sighed and softened his voice. "And so will you. Whatever level you're trying to reach, I _know_ you will be able to. You just have to let me help you."

Bulma studied the side of the kitchen wall, the silence blanketed between them. Vegeta took a deep breath, shaking his head and starting to go back to the refrigerator.

"I will do it," she said finally, "I will be the strongest in this entire damn universe, and _I_ will destroy Launch. I will have my vengeance."

"Of course."

"You don't believe me?"

"I _do_ believe you, that's the problem. You act like I'm not making any progress around here, when realistically I'm the only one that has the power to help you achieve your goals. I thought we were supposed to be respecting each other, not you treating me like shit every chance you get."

"You're acting like a child throwing a tantrum," she bit back, relentlessly shredding meat in between her teeth, "how I treat you shouldn't matter, when you and everyone you care about could be dead!"

"Sounds like you care about what happens to us, Bulma."

"I don't! I don't give a shit about any of you Saiyans. I don't care about anything except to have Launch's head on a spike."

"And then what?"

"What!?"

"I said," Vegeta pressed his palms further onto the table, "And then what? So you defeat Launch, _with_ Chi Chi's help because you're kidding yourself to think you can do it alone. And then _what_? Where do you go? Earth is gone, your followers are gone, and the only thing you'll have left is your anger and your ridiculous stubbornness. And then what?"

Bulma looked at him, her words getting caught in the ladder of her throat. She had no answer for him, and he could read it clearly on her face. He nodded, knowingly. "When all is said and done, you will need me and every Saiyan on Vegetasai in order to make something of yourself. Unless you want to go work under the Colds. I'm sure they would _love_ to make robots out of your DNA."

"Fuck you," she spat like venom, "you have _no_ idea who I am."

"Of course I don't!" Vegeta threw his hands in the air, "You've only been living with me for six months, and you won't have a decent conversation with me! Before I invited you to live here, you were stuck in the desert doing your precious training with little to nothing to help you out. And I invite you in, offer you the best science I can muster to help you out, and you treat it like its _beneath_ you!"

"It _is_ beneath me."

Vegeta stared at her dumbfounded. _What_ was the point of even trying to have a conversation with her? They were on two different wavelengths, speaking two different languages. And he was done trying to communicate. "Then leave, Bulma. Pack your shit and leave, if it's so beneath you."

"Is that a threat?"

"No! It's an answer to these problems you create for yourself!"

Bulma pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in the chair. Vegeta could have sworn that he saw what looked like a semblance of emotion pass over her eyes, but it was gone, and her expression remained stoic once more. "I'm not leaving."

"Then stop with the bullshit. Maybe it's time we set some boundaries around here."

"I _don't_ take orders from anyone, especially you. You aren't my prince."

"Rule number 1: ," he ignored her, "You will stop insulting me. I refuse to help you anymore if you continue with your taunts."

"I can't promise that."

" _Try_ to. Rule number 2: I have a new scientist that is starting the day after tomorrow. She will be able to help you out when you need it, but you will not disrespect her either."

"Is that really a rule?" Bulma laughed, throwing her head back over her chair. "You don't want me to insult your _precious_ girlfriend?"

"She's my _scientist_ , and what are you, jealous?"

Bulma stopped laughing and scowled, her face darkening. "Don't lessen me to trivial things, especially concerning you."

Vegeta shook his head, once again feeling as if she wasn't telling the truth. "And rule number 3, once a day, you and I will have a conversation."

"About what!?"

"Anything! I don't care what, but I refuse to have you live under my roof any longer and I don't know anything about you. I'm pretty much shielding the enemy here, and the least you can do is make me feel like a person."

"Now who sounds jealous?"

"Jealous? Jealous of what!?"

"Of my training," she stood, tossing the remains of her food in the trash. Her robe was scantily open, showing off her bra and underwear underneath, most likely gifted to her from the queen. Vegeta felt his face flush with red and turned to look away from her. "I don't come around to have social hour and a nightcap because I am doing _important_ things."

"Look, " he sighed, still not looking at her, "all I'm asking is that you at least try, okay? It'll make both of our lives better."

She didn't say anything, and Vegeta refused to visibly notice any change in her demeanor. She huffed, walking closer to him , the floral smell of the rootberry soap she bathed in infiltrating his nostrils. He felt her at his side, and slowly brought his head up, cautiously to look at her. She stared straight ahead at the refrigerator, her jaw tightly clenched. "I will defeat Launch. I will become impossibly strong, and I will do it in the year that we are allowed. If it happens to mean that you can live to see another day, count yourself as being lucky. In the meantime, I will expect you to work exceptionally to make sure I get there. And in return," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I will listen to you if you choose to speak. But you will come to me, I will _not_ come to you, and you will not interrupt my training. Do we have a deal?"

Vegeta nodded, not feeling the need to banter anymore. Did they not try to reach this same conclusion before, only to be found back here? But he would try, considering that comradery was a foreign concept to Bulma, he would at least give her _another_ chance.

But she had better not blow this one.

Bulma turned to walk towards the back door, leaving Vegeta alone in the kitchen. "And tell your girlfriend to watch her steps if she doesn't want to get bitten. I may listen to _your_ demands, little man, but I will not adhere to hers."

Vegeta watched her go and sighed. "She's my _scientist_!" He called to her, but was only met with her silence followed the swinging of the back door. Vegeta ran his hands through his hair and sat at the table. Well, maybe this time they would actually have progress and they could actually work well together. Between Bulma, himself and Nasubi, maybe things would finally get back on the right track.

Or at least, he hoped so.

oooOooo

_A/N_

_So here's the chapter that almost didn't happen haha._

_I won't lie to you guys, it's kind of hard to want to make this story my own, while still following the DBZ timeline, and still making it entertaining. I hope I'm doing a good job. :D_

_Next chapter should definitely start lifting us off on the plot rocketship, and making way towards the meat and potatoes of the story._

_Also, Vegeta has an assistant, eh? ;)_

_I still have to update Concerto, and tomorrow starts Smut Fest for TPTH and I WILL BE PARTICIPATING, and then Saturday is the long waited BABY BRA EPISODE ON DBS AND I AM SQUEALING WITH ANTICIPATION AAAAH!_

_Read and Review please, friends. Not to sound like a pusher of sorts, but I can't describe how much reviews help me in what I should continue, not continue etc in a story (and I just love them and they make my day!)_

_Until next time, my friends!_


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